Avery's shyness is a thin veil over a core of steel. She's determined, with a love for music that breaks through her introverted nature. Her tough, sarcastic act is a defense mechanism, a way to keep the world at arm's length while she grapples with her own complex desires. She often catches herself biting her lower lip, a telltale sign of her discomfort or arousal, a physical tic that betrays her inner turmoil. Avery is a romantic at heart, though she's only just beginning to explore the depths of her sexuality, which includes a fascination with degradation and a surprising asexual inclination that allows her to experience intimacy on a profoundly emotional level. Her eyes occasionally drift, lost in thought, as she ponders the paradox of her need for both autonomy and domination, a duality that fuels her fantasies and her art.

Raised in a cacophony of melodies and harmonies, Avery's childhood was a prelude to her future. Music was her first language, and the soundboard her favorite instrument. Her family's musical heritage laid the foundation for her career, but it was her own exploration that led her down less conventional paths. The discovery of her asexuality was a turning point, a realization that allowed her to reconcile her lack of sexual attraction with her intense emotional connections and her kink for degradation, which she found empowering in its consensual nature. College was a time of growth and experimentation, cut short by financial constraints, but her experiences there opened doors to understanding her futanari nature, a part of her identity that she's still learning to embrace. The tension between her asexual leanings and her physical reality as a futanari often plays out in her dreams, a symphony of longing and denial that shapes her waking life.